Like a Drug
by Romanticized Missile Fire
Summary: Jason never has liked people staying at HIS lake, but there's a new guy and his son coming in to stay. Will Jason kill the man leaving the child to run away, or will something unexpected happen between them? JasonxOMC
1. Laurent and Kiran

**Hey, thanks for checking out thsi little fic. :) It's my first one with Jason, and I hope I do well by him in the chapters where he actually shows up... even if I am going to make this a slash fic. Oh well... I hope you all enjoy it anyway. For those of you who don't liek Jason seeming gay at all, be at ease with this one. There won't be any explicit moments between him and my OMC. Just the usual cuddly stuffs we all find so sweet... so if you don't mind just inserting female pronouns and a feale name for my OMC in our mind while you read, that's fine by me. I'll post warnings if I have anything deeper happening between the two, kay? Thanks again for reading!**

"What do you mean we're being evicted?" Laurent Spencer staggered against the door frame, his little boy clutching his jeans as the landlady glowered at them. His knuckles were pale, almost white (which was quite the feat for an Italian/Native American) as he clutched the peeling wood. The woman's eyes briefly strayed to his grip on the frame, her eyes hardening further.

"Just what I said, Mr. Spencer. You and your little monster are out of here in two days." She sneered at Laurent's son. The little boy whimpered and clung harder to his father, now hiding more of his body as well as his whole face behind those legs. Jared patted him reassuringly on the head, frowning at the woman. She continued talking. "Actually, today was the first of the two. You're out tomorrow night."

The young man sighed heavily, attempting to control himself. Stressful situations like these always made him break down into either a fit of rage, or a fit of shaking and tears. At the moment, he felt as if he could throw a chair at her and curl into a fetal position on the floor all at the same time. And it was tempting. He looked down at his little boy. Kiran hated it when his daddy got emotional...

"You owe us two week notice, Ms. Sylva."

The woman snorted in a piggish fashion. "I had given you two weeks notice. Do you not check your mailbox every day for any possible letters or warnings?"

"I never needed to... you never gave a hint... please, ... my son..."

"Enough of your excuses, young man!" She snapped at him, boring a manicured nail into his chest, right where his heart was beating loudly, "I am tired of you and your little freak scaring away other tenants! And no, I never gave you a hint that you were leaving because it is _your _responsibility to check that box! I should not have to tell you a thing, Mr. Spencer."

"What exactly about my son and I scare the others?" It was becoming an increasingly good idea to throttle the woman with her own poorly permed and colored hair. And throw that chair he had thought of earlier.

The landlady's piercing blue gaze shifted down to the poorly hidden child again. Her eyes were scornful. "That little _child _is hideous, of course! Any sane person would have abandoned it in an orphanage years ago, not expose others to its disgusting face."

Kiran sobbed quietly and looked up at his daddy's face with sad hazel eyes. His father could feel those sad, tear filled eyes on the back of his skull along with the painfully tight grip of his little fingers. If only Ginger was still alive and able to drive this witch away from him and his boy. But she had left when he had confessed that he didn't want her sexually anymore, that he wasn't attracted to women as he had thought. Ginger had even left little Kiran, their first and only baby who had been born deformed. Now it was Laurent's job to protect the little tyke.

"My little boy is a _he _not an _it; _and I am more than happy to leave this flea bitten, broken down apartment building now! You are more of an eyesore than he ever was or ever will be," at that, Kiran whimpered slightly, "and I love my little boy no matter what combination of good looks he was born with. He's my baby, and I will not stand for you insulting him and me like that... Ms. Sylva."

The rage building inside of him was swiftly dwindling to a point of raw pain in his chest, partially from the woman's nail still boring into his chest and partially from varying emotions. The look on her face would have been priceless, he noticed, if it hadn't been for the fact that his little boy was crying on his jeans, he felt like screaming, throwing up, and crying all at the same time, and they were less than forty-eight hours from being kicked out onto the street. Even with that knowledge, he smirked slightly and looked down at his son, softening the smile for him. The landlady continued to stand there her nail boring into his chest, that angry and shocked look on her face. Apparently nobody ever talked to her that way.

"Now if you will excuse me," he purred, gripping her wrist gently to pull her hand away from the doorway, and pushed her slowly backwards, "I have some packing to do before I leave with my little boy tonight. I will not stnad for you treating him so cruelly any more than I have to. Good day, Ms. Sylva." Laurent slammed the door as soon as she was a safe enough distance from the frame and leaned his forehead against it.

Kiran had let go of his jeans once the door closed, and he stared at his daddy with wide eyes. He really didn't want to leave this apartment. It was all he had ever known for as long as he could remember. There were glimpses at times of a different sort of life with a beautiful woman hovering above him with a smile on her face, but those were long ago, he knew. And they were only snippets of memory, like how a baby can remember little things at random points that made the biggest impact on them. Kiran wanted to have that woman there again to love him and his daddy. No, he didn't want her there… he needed her there.

"Daddy… why was she being so mean?"

"Because she's a mean woman with nothing better to do than pick on the little people, kiddo," was the mumbled reply against the pressed wood of the door.

"But you're not little, daddy; you're bigger than she is. That's why she's always looking up at you when she's talking."

Laurent chuckled and pushed himself away from the door. He smiled at the little boy, scooping him up in his arms and hugging the six year old to him like a starving man would bread and water. The man carried his son with him into the bedroom they shared in that dinky little apartment, deposited him on the bare mattress, and pulled an old suitcase out from underneath the bed. It was big enough to carry most everything they had, which wasn't much.

"Want to help me pack up our stuff, big guy? We're going to go look for another house that's cheaper than this one and far away tomorrow. You'll love it, I know you will."

His son nodded eagerly, hopping off the mattress with a smile to search for his few toys. Laurent didn't have a game plan yet for where they would search, but he was going to make himself happy about the whole thing just to take his son out of that sour mood. That woman always made Kiran upset, varying in levels depending on what she said, making this eviction a slightly positive experience. Maybe his little boy could finally stay happy for a full twenty four hours if they found a different place. Somewhere he wouldn't be scorned, picked on, hated for his looks, judged.

It took only about forty-five minutes to get everything they owned stuffed into that suitcase, and Laurent let Kiran keep his little Transformers toy (one that Laurent had owned since he was a child) outside. That was the only thing that made the suitcase impossible to zip closed as it were, but Laurent would have been more than happy to let his little boy hold his favorite toy when they left. It would make him feel more secure.

"Ready to go, Lil' K?"

Kiran was already a the door when Laurent finally dragged the suitcase through the narrow bedroom door and into the little hallway. The boy was practically bouncing with excitement, making his father smile broadly at him. Laurent's son opened the door for him, holding it open while his father fought it through that narrow door as well. They both walked slowly down the stairs, Laurent trying to seem cheerful while his son was genuinely happy for some reason. Maybe his words had more impact than he though they had.

The little rust bucket Camaro Laurent had inherited from his dad years ago just barely held the bag in its trunk, groaning at the size and weight of it. The young man just patted it's hood gently in passing as he walked the key back into the main office of the apartment, leaving little Kiran out in the car to play with his toy and keep the old car company (and as a form of apology for the large bag). That Camaro always cooperated when Laurent's little boy was involved, it seemed.

Ms. Sylva wasn't in the main office at the time- probably out serving up more evictions- but instead, her young assistant was at the front desk. The girl looked up from whatever she was working on with the computer and smiled sweetly, her cheeks tingeing a light pink. Laurent knew the girl liked him, and he usually used that to his advantage, even if he wasn't attracted to her.

"Hello, Mr. Spencer," she spoke quietly, as per usual, staring at him openly.

Laurent leaned against the desk and smiled back at her, attempting to look extremely charming. He was surprised the girl didn't faint right there with how dark her cheeks became. "How are you today, Alyss?"

"Fine, Mr. Spencer."

The look on her face was almost as priceless as Ms. Sylva's had been almost as hour before when the young man dangled his room key before her face. She glanced between it and him a few times, obviously not getting that he was giving his only room key back to the front desk. Finally, it donned on her, and she shyly took the little ring with the single key on it, her eyes downcast.

"Are you leaving, Mr. Spencer?" She didn't look at him as she asked the question.

Not by my own volition, he thought bitterly. "Yeah. Just thought a change of scenery for Kiran would be good." He also knew that the girl absolutely adored Kiran, which he used to his advantage almost as much as he did her crush on him. "Know any good places for sale that aren't too expensive?"

She looked deep in thought for a moment, almost like she was counting up all the different places she knew that were for sale, had a room available, or any other form of room and board. Alyss hung the key on a hook under the desk and looked up at Laurent's golden brown gaze. "There's this really nice place for sale near a lake not fifty miles from here. Diamond Lake… something like that. Anyway, it's really cheap since the owner died and nobody else seems to want it. Probably because of the local legends. But it's really pretty."

Laurent though about it for a bit. A place near a lake would be rather nice for Kiran, and since there seemed to be no huge lot of buyer there, that would make it secluded on top of being a likely beautiful place. Yes, that would work quite well.

"Does the owner have directions to get there, or a price posted?"

"Best offer I suppose, Mr. Spencer. He just wants to get rid of the place, as he said. And if you give me a minute, I can write up some directions from here to there." She smiled sweetly again, probably trying to make him show interest in her for being so pretty. But it wouldn't work. She wasn't his type at all, cute girl or not.

"Sure. I'm going to give the news to Kiran, okay?"

"Okay, Mr. Spencer."

He walked out of the building to the gentle beginning of a cool nice. A nice reprieve from the eighty-five degree temperatures they were bound to be getting within less than a month. Summer was soon, making the idea of a lakeside house even more attractive. And Kiran was bound to be very excited about it as well.

"Hey, buddy, what do you think of a house near a lake? You can go swimming, take walks on the beach, and if there are trees there, then we can go hiking together. How does that sound, kiddo?" Laurents leaned into the side of his Camaro, eliciting a groan from the car.

Kiran just smiled and nodded at him, too preoccupied with transforming his little robot to say anything. But Laurent knew the boy had heard him by the way he worked more earnestly on the little toy, how his smile reached his eyes too when he glanced at his daddy briefly. "Okay, bud, it's a deal. We're going to get that house!" The young man ruffled his son's dark brown hair gently before walking back to the main office. Alyss was already ready with the instructions when he came back.

"Thanks, Alyss. Would you like to come visit sometime when we get the house all set up there? Then we can talk again, and you can play with Kiran. I'll call you when you can come over."

Her cheeks tinged again, and she cast a coy look up to him through her lashes. Laurent just smiled in a very friendly manner and winked at her before walking out. As he left, he could hear the sound of swiftly dialed buttons as Alyss undoubtedly texted her friends about how 'that hot dad' had winked at her and had invited her over to his house later. It was cute.

Laurent climbed into the little car, smiling at his son. "Ready to go find this place, Kiran?"

"Yup!"

Seeing his son so happy just because of the prospect of a lakeside house made the young man feel all warm and tingly. Then again, the body was partially ecstatic because he had successfully transformed his little robot with his daddy's help for the first time ever, but that didn't change Laurent's ever lightening mood. He was about to be a real homeowner… and be away from mean people who didn't understand his little Kiran. They could finally be happy with each other and with their surroundings, and Laurent wouldn't have to play superhero dad every time someone looked at his kid. Because nobody would be looking at his little boy unless he let them anymore.

It only took two hours to reach the place, and Laurent loved it from the very beginning. It was scenic, far away from most civilization, and spacious. The lake was the major seller for him though. The water was clearer than the drinking water in the apartment had been, and the sun seemed to hit it at just the right angle every single moment. It was dazzlingly beautiful, making Laurent feel this place was worth any amount of money. More than he had, that was for sure.

An old man met him as he parked near the water and climbed out of the car. The seller, who was the old man it seemed, didn't seem like he wanted to be there for much longer than necessary. "So how much you offering for the place, boy?"

Ignoring the harsh tone and the odd feeling that crept over him when the man already knew what he wanted there, Laurent smiled at the man. There was no friendly response, just the same piercing yet dull stare. Keen but not smart. "What do you want for it?"

"Whatever you're willing to offer. Why else would I have asked what you wanted to buy it for?"

"Okay… well, can I see the house?"

"What for? You won't have it for long. The last property owner didn't. Do you want it or not?"

"Only if I see the house first."

The old man sighed deeply, coughing immediately afterward without covering his mouth. "Then come with me, boy, and be quick about it."

"Mind if I bring my boy with us?"

"Don't. Just leave him there; children aren't meant to be around during business transactions. It's bad luck around here."

Laurent didn't respond, instead opting for the silent sheep type as he followed the old man into some of the thinner woods to the left of the car. After about a minute of walking at an amazingly brisk pace for such an old, stiff looking old man, they reached a cute little cabin. It looked old, but well kept. Laurent also took a liking to it immediately; it was quaint.

"Reckon you want to see the insides as well?"

The young man nodded. He was led into the cabin to see that it was practically stripped bare expect for a gas stove and sink in a room with a beautiful view from the window, a moderately new couch probably from the last owner in the room with the fireplace, and a queen sized bed in the last room. Every one of those rooms had breathtaking views of the surrounding area via large windows. Connected to the bedroom was a small bathroom with indoor plumbing (unlike in the kitchen, where he would have to carry water from either the bathroom or the lake for cooking and washing). Laurent loved it.

"I can see from the look on your face that you like it, boy. I'll take $100 for it, if it's okay with you that I end this transaction as soon as possible. I want to be far away from here by the time night falls."

Laurent glanced out the bedroom window to see that the sun was slowly descending into the horizon, though it was probably only about three o'clock. The words the old man had said finally sunk in, and he leaned against the window sill, trying to control the laughter and happiness bubbling up within him. Just $100 for the whole thing, or per month? It didn't matter. That old man really was stupid if he couldn't see what kind of gold mine he was sitting on here!

"Do you mean once a month or…"

"Just give me a hundred here and I'll be gone from your life in a jiffy, boy."

"Sold!"

The transaction was complete in less than five minutes, Laurent pulling out four twenties, a ten, a five, four ones, and assorted coins to pay the old man. Once finished, the man nodded to him wordlessly and left the cabin without a single word. Laurent followed within a few moments to see the man talking to Kiran briefly before hobbling off in the way most upset old folks do.

"Well, we got it, kiddo!"

Kiran didn't look too excited anymore, his eyes only for the little cop car his Transformer had once been, seeming to contemplate if he wanted to change it again. "What's wrong, buddy?"

"That man told me not to go walking around in the woods on my own. And he said I should try to keep talking with other adults for when you're gone." Kiran's eyes were welling up with tears, "Are you planning on leaving me, daddy?"

"No, sweetheart! I would never leave you. Did he say anything else?" Laurent glanced angrily at the receding figure of the unnamed old man he had bought the property and cabin from. He hoped the man wouldn't come back.

"Yes. He told me to tell you that he'll pray for you… and for you to be careful what you do."

"I wonder why…"

"I don't know, daddy, but I know he was serious about it. He even touched my hair before he left, and he looked sad," Laurent's little boy pouted before looking down at his car again. He began to transform the little car, and his father smiled. At least he was easily distracted.

"Well, c'mon, big guy. We need to get ourselves settled in for the night before we can go exploring. You'd like to go exploring right?"

Kiran nodded happily, getting out of the little Camaro with a giant smile on his face. "I'll help, daddy, if we can go around the forest later!" Laurent smiled in response and tousled his son's hair.

They set to getting the bag out of the car and forgot all about the creepy old man, his warnings, and the sad look on his face when he left. And they were so preoccupied with lugging that bag to the cabin that they totally missed the masked man glaring at them from the trees to the right of the car, throwing metaphorical machetes at them with his angry gaze.

Jason didn't like visitors. Ever.

**Good? Bad? Boring (inevitably)? Well, this is just a sort of introduction of two of my main characters for this fic. Doesn't Kiran remind y'all of a child Jason? There's a purpose for that. ;) You'll see! ****Tell me if you think I should continue, btw... I'm still slightly unsure of if this will be good for the awesome readers on . So, please, review and let me know what you think of this! Thanks, loves. :D You're all awesome.**


	2. Deep Thinking and Spaghetti O's

**Oh, so I totally realized I never put a disclaimer on this bad boy in the first part. So, here it is: I don't own Friday the 13th, Camp Crystal Lake, or Jason Voorhees. I do, though, own everyone else just because I'm too lazy to incorporate survivors (so far) in this. But who know. That may change. One can only hope, right? **

**Anyway! **

**I would love to thank the awesome human beings (sorry, dears, but I never dare use gender pronouns or nouns unless I'm 100% sure that's what you are; 'cause what if you're both?) who reviewed the last part of this story. They all made me feel like I could actually do this. And don't worry, it will stay at the Teen rating for the whole thing. If anyone wants anything deeper (oh goodness, what a bad usage of words when speaking about homosexual male couples) then send me the message near the end of the whole story and I may be able to whip up some poorly written smut. ^_^ **

**On that note, on with the bloody story! And please, for my sake and sanity, enjoy it. :)**

As night slowly fell on what used to be Camp Crystal Lake, a little boy and his young father sat on an old dock. Laurent had at first thought it would be too dangerous to go out on the rotting wood, but when Kiran had run onto it anyway, causing the man to follow in a panic, he soon found out it was safer than it looked. He had also thought the same of the old bed and mattress in the cabin… and the stove. But they had all worked fine so far when tested.

The setting sun's rays cast a crimson hue on the water, trees, and the only humans in that ex-camp. Kiran smiled and pointed at the color radiating off most everything in sight. "Daddy, it's your favorite color!"

"Yeah, it is, buddy," his father responded with a gentle one-armed hug. "And you know why red's my favorite color?"

"Why?"

"Because it's the color of love, the color of the life sustaining liquid inside you and me, and the color of your mommy's favorite dress." He felt he may have spoken a bit too much when he mentioned the blood part, but he saw that it made no difference to his child after he mentioned Ginger. The kid always loved to hear about his mommy.

"Why was it her favorite dress?" Kiran was becoming inquisitive. Which he never did that back at the apartment… and made Laurent even happier for coming to the lakeside house.

"When we met, she was wearing that same dress," _and with another guy who kicked my ass for speaking to her,_ he added in his head. But either way, he was happy he had met Ginger. She had been the sweetest, most beautiful woman he had ever known up until she had just walked out on her own son just because Laurent didn't desire her anymore. That, literally, had been the most shallow point in her life for as long as Laurent had known her.

"But why did that make it her favorite?"

"Because I loved it on her so much, squirt. It made her look so… beautifully dominant. Like she could take over the world and make everyone love her for it." Again, he added another little bit silently in his head: _and I like the dominant type_. The thought made him smile toward the crimson color glistening on the lake.

"Oooh!" Kiran giggled afterward and jumped up. He gave Laurent a look of understanding, like he knew that was how his mommy always had been, before he grinned devilishly. "Last one to the cabin is a rotten egg!" He cheered to as his short legs quickly carried him away from the still seated man.

_Random, but cute, _Laurent thought with a chuckle. He'd give the kid a head start, catch up to him, then let him win anyway. They hadn't raced in what felt like forever, and he wanted Kiran to be happy with it. Not that his little boy would throw a fit over losing; he just felt like making it even more fun. Kiran needed more fun in his life…

Laurent sat looking at the blood red sunlight for a few more moments before he languidly stood and stretched his arms toward the heavens. He turned slightly, ready to jog slowly to catch up to his most likely winded little boy, as a small breeze came toward him from behind. He inhaled deeply, wanting to enjoy the fresh air, but nearly gagged at a smell he never suspected to find in such a peaceful place. It was like when he had come across week old road-kill as a little boy. But this scent was worse. It was stronger, like it was coming off a very large dead thing just inside the forest.

He turned slowly, arms still raised in a long-lasting stretch, hoping he wouldn't spot the dead creature. What he saw made him freeze like a buck who just saw the man hunting him. This was… unexpected.

A man was standing just outside of the tree line (which was remarkably close to where the dock connected to land). He was tall, probably near seven feet if Laurent was any judge of height from that distance, muscular, tense, breathing heavily, and was holding what looked to be stout sword. But the most striking feature was his face.

Or lack of.

A goalie's hockey mask browned by age, dirt, and wear adorned the man's face. To see that disguise, mixed with the obvious anger emanating off of him while he held a dangerous object caused Laurent to pale. He doubted the man was truly dangerous, but… had Laurent and Kiran been sitting on the guy's dock while he watched? Laurent hadn't known anyone else lived near the lake, and thusly thought that it was a free-for-all on anything found there. Apparently not.

"Hey, sorry about all this, sir," he began, finally bringing his arms down from above his head. The mask followed the movement of his arms, and the breathing stilled for a tension-filled moment. Then the strange man began breathing heavier, taking a step forward. Laurent panicked. "You don't have to be angry at me; my kid and I didn't know this was your dock. We'll leave it alone from now on. No need to get angry."

The young father felt his own breath speed up with each step the man made his way toward him. He almost felt he would hyperventilate if this man didn't just chill out. A little bit of anger began to uncurl in his gut. If this guy tried to hurt him or Kiran, he would be surprised at how fast Laurent would move. He would be on his back before he knew what hit him! Laurent's hands curled into fists at his sides. Just let that large man try to get him. Just let him.

Slowly, the sword- no, it was an old machete, he now realized- was raised further up, to about waist height. All the while, the man continued his heavy, lumbering steps toward Laurent, finally stopping where the dock met land, and underneath where the water met the land. The mask tilted down to look at the slowly lapping water through the slats of wood then back up at the frightened/angry newcomer. Laurent noticed the man drag in a deep breath, staring at him all the while. He could only see one eye twinkling in the slowly dimming light. The arm with the machete raised up above the mans head in one swift movement.

"What are you do-"

Aforementioned arm swung forward faster than Laurent thought possible for any normal man, flinging the machete at him with enormous speed. But thanks to a lot of training with dodging random things being thrown at him in high school (he never had been very popular with too many people since he always spoke his mind), he ducked just in time to hear the weapon whiz a matter of inches from his head. It splashed into the lake just past the dock.

Holy.

Shit.

All thoughts of playing with his son dissipated from his mind in a fraction of a second. This man was more messed up than any of the screwy arses back at the apartment. Even worse than his ex-landlady.

Laurent crouched further down in case the man was planning to attempt to beat him after that missed attack. His head was down , looking through the boards to the clear water. It rippled in frenzy from the small, lethal invader that had just splashed in it's long-been virgin depths.

"What the hell was that for?" He yelled, not looking at the obviously crazy man or standing up. When he got no response, he looked up. There was nobody there. He looked around for a moment, scanning the trees and bushes nearby to see if that man was walking away. But there was nobody. There wasn't a single sign the water had been disrupted by the blade either, now.

But… hadn't he just had a dirty, rusty, nasty machete thrown at him? Hadn't he just seen a large man standing at the edge of the dock with an air of irritation and anger? Hadn't he just wished to kill said man if he tried anything? And now there was nothing. The water was natural and calm, as if it hadn't been outraged by a blade just moments ago. And there was no man. Not even the smallest sign of a man.

Maybe he was going mad?

Laurent stood quickly and sprinted toward the cabin, feeling that maybe he was the crazy man, not that creepy apparition he had seen a bit ago- a minute at the most. He finally caught up to his little boy in less than a minute (after all, the whole thing _had _happened in less than three minutes including the waiting, getting nearly injured, and running to Kiran) and attempted to seem happy as he caught the child up in his arms for a massive hug. He was feeling as if maybe, just maybe, he was slowly going insane… first that bit about not liking women anymore; then that huge urge to kill his landlady back at the apartment; now seeing a maniac throwing a weapon at him/getting a surge of fury again. He was really was becoming a loon!

Kiran laughed happily, struggling to get out of his father's grasp. "Not fair, daddy; that's cheating at the race!" Laurent blinked at the boy's words, finally realizing once again that they had been playing before his bout of mental unhealthy. A race. They had been having _fun!_

"But I'm the big man here, kiddo!" He tickled the little boy, forcing a smile onto his own face in response to the oh-so-real one on Kiran's. "I can make up the rules as I go along all I want. So I call this legal as of right now!"

That created a massive giggle fit from the six year old, and he hugged Laurent back with a huge smile. "You're weird, daddy. If you want to win the race so much, you could have just ran harder!" The little boy giggled at the fake appalled look on the young man's face. "'Cause I know I'd win if you hadn't picked me up like that."

The look on Kiran's face was one of innocent triumph. Laurent couldn't help but laugh at that look. Only hours ago, he knew his little boy never would have become this outgoing and playful. Just getting away from that oppressive apartment complex was already doing wonders for the little boy. "Y'know, buddy… I still think I could've beat you. I'm a pretty good runner."

"No way! I'd be the winner!"

"Then let's test it, kiddo," Laurent said with a laugh, setting his already flailing little boy on the ground to continue his running to the cabin. He followed shortly after, looking like he was running as hard as he could, but just couldn't catch up. That earned him a big grin from his son's face, and an extra burst of speed from the little guy.

There was no way he could go insane with such a cute little kid always loving him like that. Laurent was just stressed by that bitch landlady. That was all. No mental problems. No system malfunctions. And definitely no strange man in a hockey mask wielding a machete anywhere near or in the land surrounding Crystal Lake. No, sir. That would just be crazy.

Jason watched from the trees as the man stood again, looking far more shaken than he had let on when the machete had been thrown. That man had also shown signs of rage… but those were gone now. Replaced with a gut-wrenching fear. But it still wasn't enough for the large serial killer. He wanted that stranger dead, his blood spilled everywhere for the next visitor to see, to smell, to touch in their own fear. Jason wanted to kill that man.

Crystal Lake was his domain… nobody else's. And it was obvious the people still hadn't learned that.

What about the little boy? He hadn't gotten a very good look at the kid, but he could tell that he was still much too young to harm. Children were never problems. Only the teenagers and their elders were the problems. Sure, children created messes, caused some minor trouble, could be annoying when they wanted to be. Teenagers and adult were more than capable of that much and more. They were the real problems. And Jason found it to be his duty to fix said problems quickly and efficiently whenever they arose.

It made Jason feel a tad remorseful to think about splitting the child from his parent, though. After all, they seemed to have as good of a bond as he and his mother had so many years ago. When she had been ripped away from him by that stupid girl, that had hurt more than he wanted to admit to anyone. No. It had hurt worse than anyone could ever know. Thus the reason Jason could justify splitting them apart from one another. In this new age, children couldn't be as attached to a parent as he had as a child. And that boy couldn't know how it was to be picked on for how he looked.

Every movement the young man made was watched like a hawk as he stumbled off the dock and ran in the direction of the little boy. It was time for the pursuit. That man would be dead within the first day he had come to the lake, and his little boy would run to the nearest town and be picked up by some loving woman. The boy wouldn't remember much about his father in five years time with how happy he'd be. Good.

Jason walked quickly, following the man far enough back so as not to be sensed, but close enough to see him the whole time. He clenched one giant fist in anticipation of the killing the man with his bare hands. Sin had no right staying here longer than necessary, and Jason was ready to be that man's usher into hell… whether he wanted to or not.

He was nearing the clearing the man had stopped at. Only slightly to his surprise, he saw that the younger man was hugging his little boy. Well, that would put a bit of a damper on things. He didn't want to kill the child's father right in front of him. That had happened to Jason once, and he couldn't bare to think another child would have to endure the same traumatizing event all over again. But what Jason saw next was what really stalled his anger at the man.

That little boy's face peeked over his father's shoulder, all smiles, laughter and faked anger at his daddy picking him up. And Jason was immediately reminded of another little boy years ago… himself. Not exactly, but enough of a mutation to be a painful reminder of his past.

The child's face was deformed to the point of seeming almost inhuman. Too-large hazel eyes adorned a face that looked like it had been made of the wax of a burning candle. Those eyes low on his little face, lay under virtually nonexistent eyebrows, and in flesh pale as death. His mouth was normal until he opened it in smiles and speech, revealing some half grown-in teeth, some fully developed, and others completely missing.

He was… happy? But how could the boy be so happy around even his own father? Jason remembered moments where he would hide from his own mother, crying quietly in a cupboard while she called for him. He knew he had been born 'different' (as mother always used to say) and felt quite often so hideous that not even his mother should see him. Jason had found no joy in being himself, even when he began physically filling out before other boys.

There was nothing to be proud of. Never had been. He would always be the outcast, the freak, the one nobody wanted to be seen with for fear or retribution from others. Nothing.

This little boy, though. He was happy with himself, his life, his father. He looked full of love and vibrancy. That child was full of joy even in his deformity, playing, laughing, smiling… being normal. Such a thought was nearly unfathomable for Jason. He didn't understand how such a small, impressionable little boy could not already be spiraling into what Jason himself had become. How could he not be angry at the world for judging him? How could he not be angry at God for cursing him with what he looked like?

Jason wanted to know what it felt like to be loved without his flaws being pointed out. Yes, mother had loved him more than anyone else ever could, that much was true, but she always brought up his deformities. She had always said he was different, that's why he couldn't go play. The children would laugh, so don't go out. Mommy loves you, baby boy. Stay with mommy. I'll protect you. They won't understand you like I do. She had been right, but he still wondered.

What did it feel like? This was first time Jason had been curious about anything besides why stabbing somebody in one place created more bloodshed than in another place. Or his killing of those sinners in general. He wanted to know what it felt like to be loved unconditionally. No. Not just unconditionally. Without the person even noticing that he was physically imperfect. That he was better than anyone else to that person, flaws and all, just because said person found him perfect in his imperfections.

Well, something along those lines.

But how was he to know what that was like if he killed the only instance he had ever seen of a relationship even marginally parallel to his own? That decided it. He wouldn't kill the man yet. He would observe how they interacted and what made that boy love his sinning father so much. He would watch them, and when he learned all he felt he needed to understand this strange little boy, he would kill the man.

Good plan. No. It was a great plan.

Laurent made Kiran's favorite dinner that night: Spaghetti-O's with Spider Man shapes. As he cooked them over the (well maintained, thank God) stovetop, he listened to the sound of his six year old setting up their room more fully.

When he had left him in the room to make the dinner, the little guy had stated that he was going to make their little bedroom much nicer. In Laurent's mind, that meant there were going to be toys strewn on the floor, both of their clothes would be stuffed into the small bureau they had discovered in the closet (and had moved out to make the room seem less open), and he would be busy wrestling the small, battery operated travel television out of the suitcase. But that was alright with Laurent. He liked Kiran doing things for them.

As expected, the Spaghetti-O's were taking a long time on the old stove. The man had held up hope that it would be as fast as the glass-tops he had gotten used to now, but the little gas-burner just didn't want to comply so easily. Sure, it worked it magic slowly, probably savoring the experience of cooking after so long without a master to use it regularly… but it had two hungry males to feed. And also as expected, Laurent quietly swearing at it to hurry up did nothing either. It just made a popping sound when he kicked it lightly, and he let it be from then on. Instead, he sat on a stool they had also found in the quaint little hidden pantry near the sink to think.

What had been spurring all those moments of near insanity? He knew that being laid off his most recent job had created some stress, but it shouldn't have been enough to wipe out most of his rational brain cells. No… there had to be more. Things, memories, angers that were hidden deeper inside of him than he could imagine. But what could they be? Everything he thought of were superficial, annoying, and quite frankly fleeting. He had the love of his little boy. He had the adoration of a sweet girl; one that he should have given up his lack of attraction to and made a real move toward, since she seemed much less fiery and prone to abandon ship as his Ginger had been. All he had to do was give up what he really wanted.

That was all. Just that. Nothing else.

A light bulb flared to life suddenly, deep within his mind. It was his restraint on who he was- for the sake of others- that must have brought all these bouts of unusual behavior. It had to be! Laurent couldn't simply leave that as an option… it _had _to be the one thing stopping him from being the pretty-much-normal-guy he was! He had been in denial of being homosexual since Ginger had left. The man had fought all attractions, urges, and so forth to keep his son happy with as much stability that a single father can muster. Laurent had stopped himself from being who he wanted to be to make others happy. And, as with many sexually deprived men, that made him irritable and prone to mental breakdowns. There was just too much of him stopping himself to be truly healthy.

This, of course, is what he continued to tell himself. For he certainly couldn't be losing his mind without some plausible reason. That was it. He was a man with suppressed urges for another man. Any other man, it seemed. It had to be what was driving him totally bat-shit insane. Making him get angry. Making him ecstatic over a shabby yet cute little cabin near a lake he had never heard of before. Making him see a man wearing a mask and holding a weapon near the dock just after his son left. And now that he thought of it… if he wouldn't have seemed so creepy and menacing at the time, that was exactly the type of guy he found himself watching the most. Muscular. Tall. Quiet. Dominant.

Laurent buried his face in his hands momentarily. What was he thinking? There must have been something more wrong with him if he was attempting to point out attractive points in a hallucination! That was just wrong. Sick and totally wrong. His mind wandered back to what he had seen again, straying toward small points that were attractive about the man. Dominating strength. Silence.

Ugh!

"Oh, stop it, you dumb-arse," he growled at himself, censoring in case little Kiran was near enough to hear the words.

The smell of something staring to burn suddenly invaded Laurent's nostrils and thoughts. The Spaghetti-O's! He jumped off the stool, nearly sending it tumbling to the floor, and reached the stove in les than three strides. A few stirs later proved it to be in not-too-bad of condition, though a little bit hotter (and a lot more scorched, even if it was very small) than Kiran liked. Too bad. The little tyke had to learn that his daddy wasn't going to be the capable chef here. Maybe Kiran would pick up cooking to free himself of endless nights filled with burned, undercooked, or cold food? Seeing as he was six years old, Laurent seriously doubted it. But the thought made him smile anyway.

"Dinner's ready!"

Laurent poured the Gatorade- purchased at the same time as the canned food- into two plastic cups (also bought with the food). Not knowing if there was going to be a refrigerator in the house when they reached the lake, the man had purposely only bought things that could keep for a while without being cooled. Of course, there had been a little fridge of sorts in the kitchen. This one was hidden under the sink in some cabinets, but it was an old fashioned ice-box. He would have to drive into town to buy the ice for it, but then he could get milk, too.

After two bowls were filled with their dinner, steaming next to their own glasses of Gatorade, Laurent stood waiting. There was no response. Now that he had thought of it, there hadn't been a sound in there for a few minutes now. He began to panic.

What if the little guy had been kidnapped? What if he had wandered out of the cabin just to play a trick on his daddy? What if he had locked himself in the closet? What if… no. He needed to go see what happened, not just wonder about it. Any good father knew to check before conjecturing about their child being hurt or scared. Laurent felt like a bad father a that moment.

He rushed into the bedroom (which wasn't much of a rush, seeing as the cabin was rather small) and stopped short, not uttering a sound. His little boy, that darling child who was always sweet and considerate of others even when it wasn't working out in his favor, was sleeping. Kiran was sound asleep on the naked mattress of their queen-sized bed. He looked completely at ease, happy, and more serene than Laurent had seen him in his sleep for a while. There wasn't even a sign of dreaming going on behind those closed eyelids. The boy was simply adorable.

Laurent slowly approached, deciding that food could come later after they'd both had a good night's rest (even if it was only about 7:30), and lay on the bed next to his son. The child made a small sound of comfort before scooting into the haven of his father's arms for the rest of the night. He welcomed Kiran with a gentle hug, closing his eyes and paying no heed to the still lit bulb hanging from the ceiling. They were both capable of sleeping with lights on, and he was much too comfortable now.

His eyes closed as he yawned, and they didn't reopen. Laurent and Kiran Spencer slept soundly and restfully without worries for the first time in months. It was… very nice.

**Can you believe that was only 600-ish more words than the last section? It felt like it was running on forever when I was writing it. But one mustn't rush into the good parts too quickly, right? It would ruin the plot, yes it would. So if you enjoyed this part just as much as the last, do one little thing for me... add it to your story alert. That means just as much if not more than reviews do. :) And it takes less work for you guys. A win-win situation, no? Exactly. So add this little monster to your story alert (or even add it to faves AND story alert if you really want to spoil me) and I'll be sure to get another section up, pronto*! Good? GOOD. :D **

**One last note! ========= What would you guys think of a 'Red Dragon' (written by Thomas Harris) fic after I completely finish this one? It'll be another homosexual Teen rated romance most likely, but I have a semi-cute idea in mind. Tell me if you want one and I'll start deepening the plotline, lol. **

*****_Within less than 2 months, give or take a few weeks depending on weather conditions, workload, and general writer's-block-esque problems._


	3. It's Kinda Stalkerish Doing That

**Wow. I haven't updated this in forever. I'm a horrible writer sometimes, but school's been such a bugger that I haven't had much time to power up my old desktop. But now that my parents bought me a laptop (yay 18th birthday!), I can write more often, even at school. I may be able to update more often now! Awesome yes? Well, of course it is. :) Sure, they won't be as long as my last chapter (damn, that was a lot in one section that talked about nearly nothing of much importance the whole time, lol) but hopefully soemthing interesting will happen. Hope you guys like this one. It's the beginning of what I want to have happen later on. You'll see what I mean. ;D Read on, my dearest reviewers/alerters/followers/favouriters/stalkers!**

Jason had stood outside of the kitchen window, just beyond the light, to observe the man. He was graceful with most of his movements, something quite unusual for the type of people who usually came to Jason's lake. Also, that man seemed to smile to himself nearly the whole time as he moved about, pouring some reddish glop into a pot and starting up the stove. After that, he did nothing but watch it for a while, stirring occasionally, his lips moving after a few minutes of what came across to Jason as nothing happening. In a matter of minutes the killer became bored with that man and his obvious swearing (at what the killer now thought of as a disgusting sort of food), and walked purposefully to the other lit window of the house.

Inside that room, the little disfigured boy worked happily on unloading a suitcase of immense proportions. It was bigger than the child in every way, and Jason was sure the boy could have hidden inside that case even with their materialistic possessions still within. A surge of rage boiled through the large man's blood; even the boy had to be a sinner if he lived solely with another sinner! He had to be materialistic, swearing, bad tempered, and stupid… just like the man in the kitchen. So why did he have pity on him? He deserved no more pity than his father, no doubt!

When the crate-sized case was opened, the anger left Jason and ushered in the second small sense of guilt that very day. That case was filled with old clothing that looked like hand-me-downs in the sizes of both the boy and the father, old toys the child had obviously played with frequently and had been fixed just as many times, a small television (how they found such a portable version of a television, Jason didn't understand quite fully), and mementos of a better and happier life.

Looking past everything in the case but the memory holders, the little boy meticulously took out a photograph of the father and a pretty brunette woman smiling together within a plain frame. He set it on the small bureau near the closet. The boy then returned to pick up an old music box that said 'Baby's First Christmas' on the side, a small glass mouse wrapped in old newspaper, a picture of a happy dog (also in a plain frame), a few well-read, old books, and a handful of paperclips poured out of a plastic bag. He brought each item over to the little dresser and laid each one reverently in its own spot on the surface, one at a time before returning for another.

Jason marveled at how gentle the boy was.

This boy was unique. He seemed happy with his mundane life, a seemingly single father who was most likely immoral in some way, little possessions, and a look that was far from every little girl's dream boy. He was not only unique, but an enigma. If Jason could have spoken to the boy, he would have. He would have asked how he could be happy with that. He would have asked how he managed to win unconditional love when the undead man never could manage it. He would have asked many questions.

But Jason was incapable of speech, thanks to uncounted years' worth of rot that only attacked such superfluous systems such as speech and digestion. Because who really needed a stomach, intestines, and vocal abilities when one was only killing the sinning creatures encroaching on his domain. One didn't need such things. Frankly, Jason was surprised he even still had the use of a moving mouth complete with healthy (for a dead person) muscles and bottom jaw. At least he had been blessed with that, if nothing else. It was hard to think of life- unlife, really- without a mouth anyway, even if he didn't need it.

Thinking about all that (which was more than Jason had thought about in one sitting for years) caused the man to become inattentive, standing just within the glow coming from the window. Though he never moved, the boy inside the house turned for no apparent reason and looked at Jason. His stillness caught the man's eye, and his whole body tensed, ready to make a menacing motion to scare the child and walk away.

The boy continued to stare at him, his face expressionless only at the beginning. Until he lit up with a smile and waved at Jason. Until he moved toward the window and lay a single palm against the old glass in a form of childish greeting. Until he began to speak to him. Jason could read his lips only vaguely, picking out words like 'daddy', 'playing', and 'funny'. The killer smiled beneath his mask, feeling he should return the tender gesture of trust (even if it was misplaced and the child misunderstood who he was). But he barely made a move.

A nod was all the boy received, and he laughed at it, laying his other hand against the glass with a smile. Did he really think Jason was his father…? Though how the two could be mistaken, he wasn't really sure. After all, Jason _was _taller, larger, stronger, more imposing, and less emotional. The child's father was probably a good foot shorter than him, of much slimmer form, and always looked like he was smiling, upset, or angry about something. There was no real way the child could have mistaken the two. Never.

And yet he was saying daddy and laughing. Jason thought the idea of being a father was partially repulsive, partially frightening (and barely anything ever frightened _the _Jason Voorhees), and made him feel a tad happy inside. After everything he'd seen of the child so far, he knew he wouldn't suffer any worse rejection than a naïve child does to their mother or father on a daily basis… or so he had read in a magazine once. He hadn't understood a handful of the words, though, so it may have been a misinterpretation… maybe.

Jason backed up slowly, seeming to glide effortlessly over the ground, and the boy smiled one more time before returning to his work. Odd child.

Within less than ten minutes, the little one had finished his work and laid himself on the bed with a monstrous yawn. Again, Jason was actually tempted to smile at the sight. He was so carefree and happy with his life… so why couldn't Jason have been equally as happy when he was that age?

He continued to watch for yet another space of time, wondering about why the child was so happy- and why he slept with the light on like that, silly boy- when the father came rushing in. The look on his face was one of true panic, eyes wild, mouth partially open to allow for an increased air intake and higher heart rate (hey, Jason knew the look of fear and hyperventilation better than anyone, along with what accompanied that look on the inside). What had he been so worried about? The boy was doing nothing wrong.

Unless that man had seen him. Anger welled deep in his chest, curling around his muscles in angry, tense ropes. That man had to have seen him watching outside of the house, but being the deceiver he was, he had given no sign of knowing. Had he wanted to lull the killer into a false sense of invisibility just to attack him later, unawares? Surely that was why he was frightened. He thought Jason had attacked his little boy! The mass-murderer growled loudly, the sound inaudible to the man inside the house, and cracked his knuckles into fists at his sides.

But the man didn't look much longer than a few seconds at the gaping maw of the window before looking upon his child. A look of pure serenity colored his features, accompanied by love and relief, when his gaze finally found the sleeping child. Jason watched the man enter the room all the way then, approaching the bed, sitting on the edge and glancing at the darkness of the outside.

That look felt as if it pierced Jason's mask, and he stiffened, not knowing why that nearly black gaze troubled him at all.

But when the man lay upon the bed, curling into his son and holding the child in his arms, and closed his eyes (also ignoring the light that left the two open to Jason's gaze), Jason didn't feel affected anymore. Not as much at least. It still felt like the man had looked at _him, _not the dark, and that was on the verge of awkward. But the killer didn't dwell on the thought for very long. It was just a side effect of leaving the man alive on purpose. It was making him paranoid.

Now that he thought of it, Jason found the idea of being paranoid more awkward and enraging than the man looking at him ever could be. And that just stirred more rage inside him against the stranger. This needed to end soon.

...\/...\/...

The next morning was pleasant. Well, pleasant enough.

Laurent and Kiran enjoyed the Spaghetti-O's from the night before, now congealed and no longer smelling as burnt. As they sat on the couch in the living room, both focused on eating (as males are wont to do), listening to a little bit of music playing on small portable radio Laurent had brought in the car, the two of them looked at the forest. The beauty of it struck Kiran as magical, wondrous, and extraordinarily gorgeous (quite the thoughts for a six year old). The only thought about it that drifted through Laurent's head was that, if the man even existed, a stranger was lurking out there ready to hurt him and his little boy.

"Daddy," Kiran finally spoke after about half an hour of silence filled with Journey, Foreigner, and other assorted older groups. "Can we go play at the lake today?"

Panic surfaced momentarily, churning Laurent's stomach more than any amount of day old noodles ever could. But he couldn't keep focusing on a bloody delusion. He needed to be strong. Normal, even, for his little boy. Act like nothing was wrong— real or fictional.

"Sure, kiddo."

Kiran grinned and jumped off the couch as soon as his wish was granted, racing away to the bedroom without a second glance at his half-eaten breakfast. His father didn't really mind it though. The sooner little Kiran was out of the room, the sooner Laurent could lose that fake smile. He frowned at the window, the scenery, wishing his brain would just let him know if he was acting normal or not. Because really, feeling like a mental case wasn't the most pleasant of sensations.

Maybe five minutes later, the six year old rushed out of the room, clad in shorts, flip-flops, and a tee. In his little fists were his Transformer and his father's shorts. "You have to change, too, daddy," he said giddily, practically throwing the articles of clothing at the man.

Spaghetti-O's nearly became the decoration for Laurent's clothing, but he ripped his son's half eaten bowl out of his lap just in time. He smiled at the boy, and Kiran smiled back before scampering off to the bedroom again.

"Lord, help me," he laughed to himself.

The dishes were cleaned out (Laurent ate what was left of Kiran's breakfast), Laurent changed (they clashed with each other, but seeing as there were no _real _people to impress, the man didn't really care), and they were off to the lakeside again. Nervousness ate at the young father's gut like a half-crazed rat was fighting to get out, but he ignored the feelings of unease. It was just a side effect of having seen something that wasn't proven to be real or… well, not real at all.

As little Kiran enjoyed his time splashing in the shallower parts of the shore, his father approached the Camaro. It was still unlocked, as it had been the day before, and looked untouched. He slid into the driver's seat, relishing in the reality of it's groaning under his rather slight weight, the feel of the old leather beneath his legs, and the absolute normal vibe it gave off. The keys had been left in the ignition the night before, and Laurent reached for them then in plans of turning it on and blasting some old rock like at breakfast.

But the keys were gone. The Native American inspired keychain with the beads and the feather. The goofy little Mickey Mouse charm his son had given him two years ago. That damn jade heart his ex had given him on their anniversary when she had still been in love with him and pregnant with their son. Everything was gone.

Laurent looked under the seat, thinking that maybe it had fallen down (if Kiran had crawled across the driver's seat to grab anything when the man hadn't been looking yesterday), but they were nowhere to be seen. The man was firm in the thought that nothing devious had happened during the night, so he stepped out of the vehicle and waved to Kiran, getting his attention.

"Hey, buddy, did you happen to hide daddy's keys anywhere?"

Kiran stayed where he was, looking at his father as if he really was insane. The man didn't like that stare.

"I didn't do anything!" He looked about ready to cry.

"It's okay, I'm not angry. I just want to know if you played with the key chains and wanted to play a game with me yesterday." Laurent smiled just to reassure the boy. Kiran thankfully smiled back, no longer looking so tense. That could be a good sign.

"Nope. I was playing with my Transformer yesterday."

"Okay, squirt. You can keep playing."

Once the boy began splashing about again, Laurent ran both hands through his hair. This was _not _a good thing. How was he supposed to drive out of here for groceries if he had no form of transportation? His gaze trailed downward, finally looking at the ground. Where he saw some very auspicious boot prints leading up to and then away from the Camaro.

Maybe it was the same man, and he wasn't crazy after all? The very thought made him feel like singing ridiculously loudly to the air. But then another thought hit him. If that man really was… well, _real_… then he was going to be just as really dangerous as yesterday. He was bound to have that damn weapon on him again, too. Unless it had never been retrieved from the water.

He was holding up hope that the man had remained fearful of the water; though he was really hoping, wishing, praying that the man wasn't real at all. Of course, wishing and hoping rarely ever make anything true.

After one more glance at his son, Laurent began to walk slowly into the edge of the woods. He followed the prints easily— large, heavily made, and obviously the print of a pair of old boots—even once in the shadows of the trees. He looked around as he went, watching for the stranger even as he enjoyed the beauty of nature. Little birds were hopping around and calling each other, the sun dappled through the foliage to create dancing pictures on the ground, and the coolness of the shade dulled Laurent's senses.

Almost to the point that he didn't even notice the sparkling of his keys sitting in a moderately high branch above his head. But it did dull him to the point where he didn't realize that his little boy couldn't have done such a thing and not to notice the large man standing a matter of yards away, watching him.

"There you are," he grinned, reaching up to pluck the keys from their crevice. Of course, they were stuck in there quite well. He tugged at it for a bit, pushing himself onto the tips of his toes to get a better grip on the key chains.

_Crack._

Laurent froze. In most cases, if one wasn't worried so much about big men with machetes in the woods, that sound wouldn't have been such a big deal. But the young man _was _worried about a big man with machete showing up unannounced. He tugged once more on the keys hurriedly, and when they didn't give, he dropped his arms to his sides.

Now there was heavy breathing from nearby, almost inaudible. Laurent released a heavy, slightly shaky sigh, clenched his fists, and whirled around. As he expected, that overly large man from the previous day was looming a couple yards away, practically oozing a nasty sort of hatred, with no machete. At least Laurent could thank God for small favors like that… he wouldn't be killed with a rusty blade.

And now he didn't feel so insane, either. The man had to be real, or else he wouldn't have shown up twice in such a short time period. And he wouldn't have been able to make that branch snap if he wasn't real.

"Um… hello again," the words sounded weak, unsure. He felt a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck and his upper back. "I, uh… um…"

The man didn't respond, merely breathed. He was shivering with barely restrained rage, giant fists clenched much like Laurent's were. A deep, growling sound came from him as soon as Laurent looked ready to say something else. The young father snapped his mouth shut again, slowly backing up until his back rested against the tree.

...\/...\/...

Jason cocked his head to the side, studying the man. He wasn't as graceful anymore; there were no more seamless movements to make him seem like he was floating rather than walking, and he smelled like sweat. Sweat and something else just as nauseating. Was it that _stuff _he had eaten with his son earlier?

The thought of the little boy made anger surge once more, boiling his blood. This young man had left the little boy all alone, and in the water no less! He would drown if unattended, much as Jason had… painfully, his lungs filling with sour water, the burning, aching, fading feeling. Jason wished he could scream at the man for doing what he did, for evening _trying _to talk to him. As if he was a friend of his!

Another thought popped out of nowhere. He couldn't get angry with this man for what he did. He seemed to know the little boy more than the child knew himself, and Jason had no right to kill the one person who brought the little one so much joy. Who could keep him normal, unlike Jason's own mother had. A man whom the boy loved with his whole being. Jason couldn't take that away from him… he couldn't do to that poor boy what had been done to him.

He watched as the young man swallowed, his jugular bobbing and pulse pounding. It was fascinating to watch so up close, knowing he wasn't going to slit that throat. The way the man stared at him was interesting as well. Those huge, dark eyes were still fearful but no longer enraging; laced with long, black lashes, too. Jason actually wanted to touch those lashes to see if they were as soft as they looked.

No!

That would be disgusting. He was an evil sinner, but not quite evil enough to be killed, yet. Because of the boy and his normality, Jason was willing to let him live a bit longer.

Ignoring the man's tensing, Jason walked forward swiftly and stopped just in front of him. He felt a sort of pride in the way the man shrank away from his own looming form, the way his eyes didn't leave Jason's mask, the way his pulse pounded even quicker with the close proximity. Leaning ever closer, one of Jason's arms reached above the man and ripped the keys from the niche. Jason's eye never left the younger man's face, and the younger man's eyes never left his mask.

Jason dangled the keys in front of the man's uplifted eyes, growling ever so slightly when he didn't move to take them. Finally, when a single olive toned hand reached up tentatively, Jason gripped the writ with his free hand. He leaned in closer to the young man, glaring as powerfully as he had ever done before, and saw the way it frightened the father. The young man blinked once quickly, looking nervous as Jason shoved the keys and the multiple key chains into the hand of the caught wrist.

With a nod of dismissal, Jason let him go and backed away a step. He wanted to laugh as the man nearly scurried away, glancing behind him once when he was a good distance away and close to the tree line. At that point, he stopped, staring intently at Jason before flashing a huge smile very similar to that of the little boy's smiles.

That was… confusing. Why would he smile at the man who had been so close to killing him? Maybe he wasn't so much evil as a bit crazy. That must be why the little one was so happy with him and felt normal. Just weird. It would be easier to think he was crazy if his eyes hadn't been so… intense. With a snort of derision, Jason turned away from the smiling man and disappeared in the shadows of the forest.

Outside of the cover of the trees, Laurent was finally feeling as if he was no longer crazy. And it felt damn good if he said so himself.

**See what I meant back up there when I was prattling on? It's starting between them! Well, not so much between them as it is happening to them as individuals. But that's only for now... soon there'll be something a bit more spicy, though not too much since I favour this T rating over an M rating. There wasn't as much tension as I would have liked when Jason was getting all up in Laurent's bubble, but it's hard to write that stuff when your parents are watching idiotic reality shows in the same room, lol. They kept distracting me, honest! Next time they 'encounter' each other, it'll be better. And there'll hopefully be much more sensuality going between them. It's just hard to create that wityhout any sort of dialogue between them. -Feels like a masochistic write again, always picking a mute or nearly mute character as once half of a relationship-**

**Anywho! Thanks for reading, loves. You're all so wonderful to me, and I'm sorry I didn't name each of you, I just didn't think I could remember all those names without a pen and paper handy. :) THANK YOU!**


	4. One Necklace to Rule Them All

**See, guys? Sometimes I work really fast... I just need an idea solidly in my head for it to happen. Now, you'll see in this part that I incorporated (loosely) a thing they used in that crappy 2009 remake of Ft13th. Sure it might not be exactly like what they had shown in the movie, but I don't really care, lol. My way of doing it makes more sense anyway. ^^; But yeah, I hope you guys like this section. I had a lot of fun writing Jason's thoughts and POV since he's kinda an enigma in other stories and in the movies. It's like how that producer for the Twilight Saga (I don't liek the movies OR the boosk, but it's a good analogy anyway) decided he'd mess with absolutely everything for the movie. :P That's my writing for you; the scary producer gets her claws in something good-yet-vague and twists it till it cries in joy. *ahem* Now that my almost-innuendo-ish analogy is over, on with the show! :D Btw, thanks to all you lovely readers who reviewed, favourited, and alerted; you guys totally deserve your favourite food for supper tonight! Enjoy! :)**

He didn't understand it. Why the hell had he _smiled _at his potential murderer? The man was obviously dangerous if his mannerisms had been anything to judge by, but when he had nodded to him to just leave like that… well, Laurent hadn't felt as threatened anymore. It was as if the weight of their first meeting at the dock was gone. Almost but not totally forgotten.

But he knew he was still being threatened. The way that eye had glared at him when he had grabbed his keys from above him. The way that same dark eyes had intensified his glared when he grabbed his wrist and made him take his own keys. Laurent watched his son blankly from a spot on the ground near the water as he thought about that eye. About that man, too. It was hard to focus on those two things at once now.

What was he supposed to do?

That eye had been so beautiful, alluring, and full of molten emotion. Sure, it was all anger and deep thoughts Laurent doubted he would ever understand, but it was intense. Something told him that the man wasn't going to hurt him yet. Something also told him that he still needed to watch how he acted any time he was within an 'I'm-being-watched-for-sure' area. Which probably meant he should watch his back all the time unless he was inside his house with the shades closed; he hated the very thought of it immediately.

Again, he thought about the strange masked man. Why was he wearing a hockey mask (of all things) while stalking around a lake with a machete? Why the hell had he still smelled like a rotting thing? And how the hell had he grown to be so big? Laurent thought back to how frightened he had been when the giant of a man had invaded his personal space against the tree. Damn close to pissing his pants was what had happened, he thought bitterly, both from being so helpless and from the stench. But he had managed to keep a hold on his bodily functions and not do anything rash… like check him out. The young father did have to admit to himself that he still felt that physical attraction, no matter how silly and childish it was, to the frighteningly dominant other man on Crystal Lake's shores.

"This is just like being in a constant interview," he muttered to himself, running a single hand through his hair, "where I have to act disinterested in the boss and overly interested in my job." Laurent watched his son splash around in the shallows for a moment or two longer before deciding that maybe he should make the best of the 'interview'. He would make a show of it! And in turn that would make the boss watch him less carefully, Laurent hoped.

Stripping off his shirt, Laurent walked quickly to the water's edge. When little Kiran finally noticed him, he let out a squeal of delight and ran to his daddy. He grabbed Laurent's left hand with both of his and dragged the man into the water with him where he promptly began showing him what he had found in the mud. Inside his little plastic bucket, Kiran had gather a few snail shells about the size of quarters and nickels, a multitude of rocks that looked nondescript (but Laurent ooh-ed and ahh-ed anyway, much to the delight of his little boy) and oddly enough, a little golden locket.

Laurent reached into the bucket slowly, picking out the locket and its chain. They were muddy, mossy, tarnished, and very obviously old. If he was any good judge of time, he would have guessed that it had been made over sixty years ago. He turned it over in his hand, noticing that one of the pins for its two hinges had gone missing, and that its ornately simple design had been tarnished by a word scratched into it by a child's hand.

_Jason._

There was no way of knowing who that Jason person had been, but whoever he was, he had owned a good piece of jewelry before losing it. As Laurent thought more about it, he remembered what one of the store clerks had told him on his way to find Crystal Lake the day before. The woman had mentioned something about an old children's camp that had been closed down years ago because a child had drowned, but he doubted that just because the necklace was old meant it had something to do with that drowning. Children lost plenty of things in the water.

"Open it up, daddy," Kiran begged, pulling his father down to sit in the shallow water next to him. Laurent smiled at the little boy, patting his hair with a gentle, wet hand before working at the locket. When Kiran saw how hard it was to work with he eventually lost some of his interest and began digging in the mud near him to look for more shells.

It was stuck for a bit longer, almost to the point that Kiran was about to get up and look for more interesting things. But Laurent was finally able to pop it open, pouring out a little bit more water and leaving a film on muck inside. He swiped his thumb across it, grinning as his little boy stood up and leaned it to get a better look, totally blocking Laurent's own view of the inside of the jewelry. He flet Kiran's little fingers touch the locket and his own hand as he looked at the contents.

Looking up at his father, Kiran looked confused. "Who's the lady, daddy?"

…\/…\/…

It was unnerving to see just how motionless the young father had become after their meeting. There had been that frighteningly bright smile in which Jason had suspected some foul play about to start, but the man had merely continued toward his car and son just after. He had then proceeded to sit and stare out at his little boy splashing around in the shallows, collecting items from beneath the waters. He hadn't checked to make sure all his keys were present. Hadn't checked to see if they even worked anymore. Hadn't even turned to look at the trees anymore like Jason had expected.

What was he doing?

Jason studied the man's back before moving a distance to view his profile from about the same distance as he had the back. He noticed that the man wasn't even fully watching his son, but seemed to be favoring a blankness aimed in the child's direction. That angered Jason something fierce. Why was he watching his on more closely? His little boy could drown and he probably wouldn't notice a thing until he…

Suddenly, the young man was standing—no, he was walking toward the little boy with an intently happy expression on his face—and stripping off his tee shirt. Jason had been ready to rush out of his camouflaged hiding place to protect the boy if his father decided it was time to finally be a 'normal' human and attempt to kill the boy, but had been stopped by the most unlikely thing. He was uncomfortable with the thought being near the man with so little clothing on him. Yes, he was still wearing swim shorts and sandals. But that was it.

The large, undead man felt shame at his pang of humanity. This man wasn't supposed to be any different than the other vagabonds that entered his domain, so why should he be affected by this one? His eyes were fascinating; so what? Jason had seen much more unique eyes in all his kills, but they had never stopped him before. His face was actually handsome for a human, almost pretty. Again, so what? Jason had also seen plenty of nymph-like humans who tried to be alluring; he slayed every single one of them with anger.

He had a child that was so similar to him. That had to be the reason why Jason didn'twant to expose himself, to attack the man. He was near his child. And Jason didn't want to scare the child, and he didn't want to make the child turn out like he had.

But that wasn't it.

No matter how many times Jason would tell himself it was because of the little boy, he knew deep inside that he was lying to himself. It was something, or a combination of something_**s**_, that had kept him hidden away, staring even more intently. But if there was one thing Jason thought he knew, it was that his feelings of flushed embarrassment and overt fascination when viewing the man's bare torso had absolutely _NOTHING _to do with it. He wasn't nervous just by looking at that lithe, breakable frame etched with just enough muscle to destroy the illusion that he was simply a small, slender man. And he was definitely _not _interested in using the hiding place as a sort of front-row-seat for being a voyeur.

Not. At. All.

Jason's anger boiled up again at his own jumbled thoughts (the past twenty-four hours had been quite the experience in the realm of intellectual usage for the poor guy), and he shook off every single one of them. He had a responsibility to watch over his lake and keep it clean of disgusting sinners and to avenge his mother's death. To be on alert for any misstep the young man made was his job now, and he couldn't take the time to think about such trivial things. He had to vigilant!

The father and his son sat in the water after a minute or two of happy interaction, and Jason saw something glimmer in the man's hand. He wanted to get closer to see what it was, but he knew he couldn't do that while they were still so unabsorbed with the item. He waited a few moments longer, until the father was totally into doing something with the little golden thing, before moving closer to them, out of his cover. Neither of them noticed him.

It took a bit of time, but Jason was finally able to figure out what the young man was doing to the thing. He was trying to open it. From where he was, Jason was able to see that it was oval, quite old, and had probably been buried in the mud of Crystal Lake for years. When a chain fell between a couple of the man's fingers, sparkling dimly, Jason jerked forward with a start of recognition. He now knew exactly what item the man was holding, what he was trying to do, and what was inside of it.

It was the locket Jason's mother had given him to keep as a memento of her when he was at summer camp. She had wanted him to attempt a bit of a normal life when he had turned eleven, and she had given him that as a token of her love. He remembered carving his name into the back of it with a knife from the kitchen, too, for just in case it got lost. When those children had… done what they did and left him to rot at the bottom of the lake, he had lost it. And his fear of the water had kept him from looking for it in the depths.

But now they had it, and he wanted it back. He wanted that silly little locket with its picture of his mother when she had been a teenager and the only picture of his dad he ever owned. Jason not only wanted it back, he needed it back.

And he would stop at nothing to get it now that it was within reach.

…\/…\/…

"I don't know, little man, I can't see the picture?" Laurent replied with a laugh. Kiran grinned at him and moved aside just enough to let his father see the picture.

It was warped, stained and had taken on an overall greenish hue, but it was a picture of a young woman. Laurent looked at it fleetingly before glancing at the picture his son hadn't noticed yet. He was a handsome man with dark hair and light eyes (though it was in just as bad of a condition as the woman's picture was). He wasn't smiling. She, on the other hand, was pretty with medium-length curly hair and a warm smile much like…

"She looks like mommy," Kiran purred touching the picture again.

Laurent blinked and brought the locket closer to his face. The strange woman did hold a bit of a resemblance to Ginger, especially in her smile. The teeth were similar, and the way her cheeks dimpled ever so slightly was also very similar to Laurent's ex. Did they have any sort of relation? It wasn't entirely impossible seeing as the picture had to be old, but they weren't so very similar that he would think it was a definite thing. And anyway, Ginger had never mentioned a family member, obviously the mother of the child who had scratched his name in the back of the locket, having children that went to an old camp from years ago.

"She does… but all pretty ladies remind you of mommy," he teased his son, splashing him with a bit of water to distract the boy from the locket. Kiran giggled and splashed his father back, forgetting all about the piece of jewelry. Laurent took that moment to slip the item and its chain into a pocket in his shorts and simply enjoy the rest of his day with his son.

After a couple more hours of playing with Kiran, Laurent heard a little rumbling sound coming from the little guy. He grinned as his son glanced at his tummy, mumbled at it to be quiet because he was having fun, then continued walking around in the water, gather shells and rocks again. The young father picked up his son, causing him to laugh as he always did when hoisted into the air, and brought him up to the Camaro to sit on its hood. It groaned only slightly in protest.

"See, buddy? She's hungry, too! Want some lunch?"

"Yeah! Can I have a peanut butter sandwich, daddy?"

Laurent paused, acting as if he was thinking very hard about the decision. "I don't know, son; I was thinking more along the lines of pizza, but if you want a sandwich, I'm sure the car and I can enjoy it on our own." The look on Kiran's face was priceless. Laurent hugged his little boy, laughing at the look he had received before pulling away once more. "If you want to come with me, I think I might be able to find that pizza place. Remember the one you wanted to stop at on the way here last night? It's bound to be open now. And now that I actually know I have the money to get it…"

Kiran practically strangled his father before running at full speed toward their house, squealing something about pizza, transformers, and a masked man. The young father decided he might as well ignore what the little boy was babbling about; it wasn't as if that bit about a man with a mask was the same thing as his own experience with a man in a mask. The little guy hadn't even met Laurent's own potential killer yet, or he would've have told his daddy about it directly afterward.

He stuck his key in the ignition, started his baby up, and left the car to go find his little boy (and to get on something else to wear for lunchtime). For once, Laurent didn't feel that uncomfortable sensation of being watched… at least not by hateful eyes. He still felt as if someone watching him, but the young man supposed that was just something he'd have to get used to. Laurent snatched up his shirt from the ground and whipped it over his shoulder like he would a towel, smiling for every reason and no reason at the same time.

Feeling a sort of carefree-ness was liberatingly delicious. He only wished that he could possibly share the feeling with the angry man as well. Everyone deserved some happiness after all, even if they were violent and had no reason to attack him.

_You should go find that man again. _

What? Had he really thought that? Laurent stopped just beneath the shelter of some trees, the cabin just in sight. There was no way he would go hunting down that man just to make him bloody happy. He had gotten a machete thrown at his damn head the first time, and had been so close to getting his wrist mangled in the man's grip the second time. No way. He wouldn't go looking for that giant. If the man wanted a taste of happiness he and Kiran had right now, he could come looking for _them. _

_That's like saying a hurt puppy should come find you for help instead of you getting him out of the road._

"Cute little puppies don't want to turn me into human jelly," he quietly growled to the annoying little voice in his head. Laurent wasn't about to listen to some humanitarian voice in his head now. It was just bound to get him into some shit or another. And there was no reason to go looking for the man anyw—

_Lying to yourself won't help. If you want him to be happy, you have to make him happy, dumbass._

"Oh, and how am I supposed to do that? Bring him flowers? Like that'll make a crazy man happy. If anything it'll just make the whole thing worse. You know what? You're no help right now! He's bound to be watching me, listening even, and I look like I'm talking to myself."

_Maybe because you are? But as I had been about to say before you rudely interrupted me: you don't know that he really wants to kill you anymore. He hasn't done it yet, and that very thorough look over you've given him twice now has proved that he's more than capable of killing your sorry ass with his bare hands. Just try to talk to him. Share some food or something. He must want something from you; doesn't mean that he wants to kill you right now._

"Fine! I'll go outside tonight and explore for a while. Maybe he'll find me in the meantime and I can get a name or something. Happy?"

That little voice simply replied that he was being an idiot talking to himself, arguing more like, and that he should just get on with the pizza buying because he was hungry. Laurent agreed of course, making a mental note to buy a flashlight while he and his son were out. He also made a mental note not to have conversations with his conscience again. It was an annoying little bastard with a thing for arguing and making Laurent do things he wasn't too keen on.

Even if his conscience really was only another part of himself, it could still be a bastard.

…\/…\/…

Jason didn't get a chance to see where the man had put his locket. It had been there one moment, then he had begun to play with his son, and it was magically gone. He hadn't been able to tell if the man's swim shorts had pockets (then again, he hadn't exactly been too interested in the man's choice of clothing during the times he was watching him), so he ruled that idea out immediately. He just didn't know. Maybe it had gotten dropped back into the bucket and then transferred to the house when the little boy had run home? Or maybe the man had thought it to be a piece of junk and had simply dropped it back into the water…

He wanted so desperately to abandon his fear of the lake itself, but he simply couldn't. It held too many bad memories, shadows of his past he would rather not relive every second he rooted in the mud for the necklace. The man simply wanted his property back, and he did not want to kill or feel like he was being killed in the process of doing so. Maybe he had to talk to the man. Well, not really talk, since he didn't exactly having working vocal chords anymore. Or functioning lungs for that matter. (Jason breathed heavily not because he needed the air but for the pure fear it inspired in the people he killed.)

Walking aimlessly through the densest parts of the forest- near to the cabin and the man but not near enough to be found if the man went wandering for some reason—Jason suddenly slammed a single fist against an old oak. The poor tree shuddered, shaking multiple restring animals from its branches and causing quite the uproar for a few seconds. A single eye spoke of his apology to the animals as he began to walk once more, slower this time.

There was no plausible way of getting that necklace back into his possession. He couldn't kill the man, he couldn't talk to the man, and he couldn't just walk into their house and…

A car engine sounded over the soft, occasional twitters of birds and squirrels, and Jason whipped around in that direction. Were they actually leaving at the exact moment that Jason thought to break into the house and search for what was rightfully his? It was like a message from God! A message that came just at the right time; right when he was dreading having to actually _communicate _with the man. The whirring of the car driving away eventually faded, and Jason walked determinedly in the direction of the cabin.

Once there, he began to have a good amount of second thoughts. The first one was a pretty big one: what if they got home before he found it? He didn't exactly know why they had left in the first place, and if it was seriously just a quick trip for food or some trivial need, he would be caught. And that would totally kill the whole idea of not killing the man. The second idea wasn't as big, but was still something to think about. What if he got in there, got to search the whole place top to bottom, and it wasn't there? It was always a possibility that the father had brought it with him, possibly to ask questions around town. But Jason knew he needed to at least look around inside without ripping the place apart. He needed to look around, to give searching a try.

Taking a deep-yet-unneeded breath, Jason emerged from the trees just behind the little cabin. It looked small and frightened sitting in the clearing, almost waiting to cry out for when Jason finally pried open a window or a door. It was a huddled little thing with green laced roof tiles, peeling paint in some areas and simply raw wood in others, and many large, freshly polished windows. It was very different from when Jason had been just a youngster, enjoying a sheltered life. It was old now, slightly decrepit while still looking loved.

He wanted to talk to it. To comfort it like some small child found alone in the forest, and he was the hunter who had discovered it while on a weekly trip to look for deer. More than anything else, he wanted to be that little boy again, carefree to a degree and happy in his solitude. Jason wanted to have his innocence back, to not hate people for what they did (even when they deserved his hatred and anger), and to be happy again.

In a small way, he hoped that the man and his son might bring a bit of that happiness and innocent love back to him. Indirectly, of course, but it would be there for him nonetheless. Of course, he wouldn't use them for that person; no, he would keep his distance and absorb the radiated happiness from the couple.

Jason eventually walked around the little house and stepped onto the porch. It creaked and sagged ever so slightly under his weight— he was a big man after all— but held for him. He allowed himself a rare smile beneath his mask when the building seemed to release a sigh of happiness at his presence, and he ran a hand along the splintered railing. He stepped forward and twisted the front door's knob gently. It gave easily and the door swung inward to give him entrance. As he stepped forward, Jason inhaled deeply, absorbing the smells.

Soap. Tomato sauce. Lake Water. Dust. Something more stinging and masculine flirted with Jason's senses as well, though it made him cringe. It was the same smell that had been on the man when he had backed him against a tree. It wasn't a natural human smell, and the large man began to wonder if it was the male equivalent of the perfumes women wore. Underneath it he smelled two very human scents. One was that of a child, a smell Jason had learned to correlate with innocence and a lack of threat. The other was oddly pleasant in comparison to most men he smelled; it was biting yet smooth. Sweet and sour. Bitter and intoxicating. A delicious sort of smell that Jason decided he liked instantly, though he told himself it couldn't possibly be simply from the man.

He took it all in and pushed every sensation to back of his head for later use as he walked into the little house.

Every room was checked thoroughly, every item he picked up put back into its place. Eventually, he had to enter the bedroom though, and was hit by a wall of both the boy's scent and a mixture of the man's scent. The masculine perfume and whatever mixture of artificiality the man used to create such an addicting fragrance was intense, causing Jason to pause at the doorway for a moment. But he shook the sensation off quickly and strode in, ready to look through suitcases if he had to.

Suitcases, the bed, the small closet, even the bureau was searched all the way through. Every item, save those on the top of the miniscule bureau. He eyed them apprehensively, wondering if he should learn a bit about them while they were gone. It wouldn't hurt to at least know the names of the people Jason would try to absorb some happiness from, right? He strode slowly to the little collection of items, picking up only the bigger ones that could easily be placed back where they were.

The first item to be picked up was the picture of the dog. It was a happy looking old mutt with small orange ears and pink nose. It was lying on its side, its head cradled in somebody's lap, looking quite content with its life. Jason slipped the picture from its frame and looked at the back. It wasn't dated, but the name Grizzly was written in a feminine script. Jason glanced at the picture of the man and woman, suspecting it was her handwriting. He put the picture back into its frame, then the frame back onto the bureau gently before moving onto the little music box.

It was kind of heavy for such a delicate looking thing. By the feel of it, Jason guessed it was some sort of heavy-duty ceramic. He turned it over delicately in his hands, looking for a name or something equally as unique to the child or the father. A tinkling melody began to come from the box, but Jason paid it no mind. Nothing was scripted on the outside, so he lifted the lid to it and peered inside. A single picture of the little boy as a very small baby was inside, corners bent and edges worn. He pulled the picture out gingerly and studied it. The boy had been just like him as a baby; large dark eyes, sweet expression, a half smile, and a disfigured face. He turned it over. _Kiran Michael Spencer, 1 Month. _So that was the little one's name. Kiran.

Suddenly, Jason wanted to know the father's name even more. It was enough to know the boy's name, but not enough if he didn't get the other half of the couple.

Jason didn't bother placing the music box back where it belonged, knowing he would work with it in a moment. He lifted the picture of the man and the woman. _He's married, _Jason thought fleetingly, studying the woman. She was pretty, her smile and her hair reminding him of his mother, but Jason felt a slight resentment toward her. Why wasn't she here with her husband and child? That little boy needed her! Jason clenched his fist ever so slightly, cracking the glass in the frame about an inch at one corner. She was just like all the others who came to Crystal Lake… sinners who cared for nobody but themselves. He practically ripped the picture from the frame, wanting to see what her name was. _Laurent and Me! _He paused, still angry, wondering if maybe her name was on something else. But then it hit him.

That man's name was Laurent. Laurent Spencer if the little boy's last name was the same as his. Jason's stomach fluttered, quite the unusual thing for the killer. He knew their names now. They wouldn't, couldn't, be killed now. It was personal. He _knew _them.

The sound of an engine and tires on dirt and rocks alerted Jason to the returning people. No, the returning Kiran and Laurent. The very thought of using their names when thinking about where they were or what they were doing was amazing. Jason decided that he liked knowing people by their names. And not killing them afterward.

He brought himself back to his surroundings with a jolt. How long he been walking around their house? At least half an hour… which meant he was potentially going to be found within if he didn't work fast. They moved quickly, so unlike the others who had come to Crystal Lake in the years before, so they would be at the house soon. Jason glanced at the sunlight coming through the window into the room. It was around two o'clock now. They had eaten lunch and were going to be a little slower than before. He had the time if he worked quickly.

But the items weren't cooperating. The picture of Kiran as a baby was having a problem sliding back into its place in the still playing music box. Once it finally sat about as well as it had before Jason had taken it out, the killer was having a temporary memory lapse (which didn't happen often) on where to place the box. He decided on a place that seemed good enough, and began to work quickly on the picture of the man and the woman. An idea hit him like slamming of the car door in the distance.

_Take the picture._

**Will he actually walk out of the cabin with the picture? Can he leave in time not to be found? Did Kiran get the pizza he really REALLY wanted? Tune in next time on... LIKE A DRUG! *flashy lights and dramatic sound effects***

**Anways, lol! Like the incorporation of the locket from the remake? I thought that'd be a good way of bringing the three together for some sort of communication before Jason totally jumps Laurent (for the express purpose of ascertaining where the lovely smell comes from and NOTHING ELSE, of course). I liked them getting to know each other names, even if Laurent and Kiran don't know that the man in the hockey mask is the same Jason who etched his name on the locket a good 50-60 years before. Which brings me to another issue for this. How should I go about the whole he's-been-drowned-a-bazillion-times-and-is-rotting-right-now-but-Laurent-still-thinks-he's-hot thing without making it seem like overt, homosexual necrophilia (which it technically is)? I'm not sure about how I'll do that delicately, especially when it gets to the part where- oh, wait, this is a T rated fic. Maybe I'll just have to worry about that for a possible one-shot involving Jason, a VERY drunk Laurent (because we all know he wouldn't make a blatant move on Jason without some form of liquid courage), and assorted sugary foods. Okay, difficulty solved! **_Should I write an M rated one shot after I'm done with this story?_**There's the REAL question. :3 Let me know if your review, please, or it won't happen.**

**Hopefully I can update again within the next month. No guarantees this time, though. *huggles you all* Thank you so much for pampering me with your awesome words! You guys are epicness incarnate! :D**


	5. Odd Moments in the Life of a Sociopath

**Hey there guys! It's been a while, huh? Yeeeeaaaah... I would say I'm lazy, but as you guys can see, I've put a couple short-n-crappy things up here since my last update. And I've been working on my own original thing wth zombies, humans, and lots of sexual tension between a male of each aforementioned grouping. (If you wanna read that, I'll be posting it on wattpaddotcom, but I won't tell you the username unless you ask, lol.) But ANYWAY. On the story. I'm not proud of this chapter, but oh well; you guys get some fluffy stuffs to fill in just enough between the last part and some hopefully tension-filled moments between Laurent and Jason. *purr* And hopefully one hell of a one-shot after it's all over. NOW READ. :D**

"I want that kind, daddy! Please? Can I have it? Please, please, please, please, please? I was really good on the car ride; I didn't even change the radio! Please, daddy, can I have it?" Kiran whined cutely to his father, tugging on his jeans then on the hem of his button-up shirt.

Laurent looked down at child and ruffled his hair. His gaze swept up to the sweet looking young woman at the counter and smiled at her as well, "May we have a medium cheese, pepperoni, and pineapple pizza? Seems my little man wants some as soon as possible." He pulled the money from his jean pocket, and the young woman's cheeks colored slightly when her fingers brushed his in the exchange. The father smiled at her bashfully flirty expression; she didn't know he wasn't into women.

"If you don't mind me being forward, I've never seen _you_ before. Did you just move in nearby?" Her expression was hopeful and confident. Laurent was taken aback for a second, his smile faltering as he saw those mixed emotions in her eyes. She was hoping for something she wouldn't get, he could always tell as much with women. She leaned forward, her breasts straining against her work shirt, probably hoping he would notice them with more enthusiasm than he had her sultry eyes.

"Oh, yeah. You now that little lake nearby," when her eyes widened and a sort of fear overcame them. She leaned away once more, looking almost fidgety. Laurent quirked a brow ever so slightly at her, "Yeah, I moved in over there."

"But didn't you hear about what happened over there?"

"About that poor kid drow—" Laurent cast a wary glance at his overly attentive son. Kiran met his daddy's gaze and grinned widely, eliciting a grin from both the serving woman and his father. "Do me a favor and find us a table, kiddo. I'll be there in a minute; don't forget napkins!" As the little boy trotted happily away, babbling ever so slightly to himself and his Transformer about napkins and pizza, Laurent looked back at the young woman. "But yes, I heard about the drowning years ago. It's a shame, but there's nothing I can do about it."

Her eyes were frantic now, and she looked as if she wanted to bolt and shake him to death at the same time. Laurent was about to ask her if she was feeling well when she leaned forward once more, this time conspiratorially. The voice which had been slightly flirtatious and at a comfortable volume just moments ago was quiet and nervous beyond any possible doubt, "No, not that. That was just the _beginning. _He… he kills people now. One of my ex-boyfriends went over there to party with a group of friends… and… and… never came home."

Now Laurent felt purely callous. So what if the young woman's boyfriend (actually, her EX-boyfriend) hadn't returned from partying? He had probably gone off to some other girl's house and then proceeded to stay there. What use would it be to tell his ex-girlfriend that he wasn't going to be coming back to the little town? "You know, honey, when guys break up with you, they probably won't—"

"We were dating when he went to that party."

"Oh. So he left to be with some other girl. It's not uncommon."

The look on the girl's face made Laurent feel like the biggest dickhead in the world. She looked close to crying, but still worried for Laurent at the same time. Apparently, his uncaring, cold words had no effect on her ability to show compassion for others. But he didn't like her trying to dissuade him from living in a place he actually liked. It was like telling someone not to keep the animal recently purchased from the humane society; one just shouldn't do that.

"I'm sorry, but your boyfriend's disappearance, no matter how hard it must have been, has nothing to do with—"

"The cops… they found him later. He was still at the camp."

"Oh, good. Was he arrested or something then?" Probably all the pot he had smoked while camping. The few experiences Laurent had had with pot in high school had shown that his friends all had the same sort of responses; they couldn't figure out how to go back home when they were high and were complete idiots. They forgot everything for some reason and got easily distracted.

"No. He was there… in three different areas of the campgrounds. He… they…" She looked close to crying and glanced at Kiran as he sat wiggling in a green, padded booth along one of the walls, "It's not safe there. No children have ever died there since Jason, but…"

The woman's explanation for her missing boyfriend hit Laurent harder than a punch in his face. The young man had been found in three different areas of the camp. At the same time. The camp Laurent and his little boy were planning on living in for at _least _until the end of Kiran's high school life. He had a very unpleasant feeling that he knew who had dismembered the teenager.

"Sir?"

He couldn't respond. No words seemed right enough for the situation, and that made it even worse for Laurent. There wasn't enough money in the bank to move to a new apartment, the young father was still in search of a stable job near the old campground, and he couldn't leave his child at home alone until he found someone to stay at home with him. Laurent was beginning to wonder if he should fake being straight until he could afford to get them off that land, away from the sociopath stalking the woods. His son needed a woman to watch over him.

"Sir? Please… are you okay?"

Laurent's dark eyes met the girl's, and he forced a rather convincing smile. "I'm fine, sweetie; it was just a bit unnerving to hear you say he was found in three different places. Whoever was there before we showed up sure is a sicko."

She wasn't buying it, and he could tell. The woman crossed her arms, ignoring the beginnings of a line forming behind the handsome man before her. "You're worried about your boy; I can tell. And you should be. Jason Voorhees is a dangerous man, a dangerous _zombie_, and a dangerous enemy. You need to get off that land as soon as possible."

Again, he forced a smile, "You've got me all wrong. I'm not worried about some psycho tromping around my freshly purchased property. That thing you said just gave me the creeps, and seeing as I have a very vivid imagination, I got pictures of that happening to my boy." He hoped, wished, prayed that she would believe that thin, obviously false excuse for his expression and leave it at that.

But the young woman at the counter wasn't about to let him alone just yet.

"Have you seen anyone at all at the lake?"

"What do you mean? Of course I've seen people; I had to buy the property, didn't I?"

By the look on her face, Laurent knew he wasn't on the top of his game that afternoon. He probably wasn't even scoring any points for himself at all with such pitiful explanations. Avoidances, more like, said the bitchy little voice he loathed to call a conscience. He was tempted to tell it to shut up, but knew that would look a little too weird in public. Hell, it looked weird in private, too, if he thought about it.

But that was totally off topic.

The cute cashier sighed and smiled, shaking her head. At least he was blessed with her thinking he was just cute-but-stupid rather than making up shit as he went along. Her smile was almost condescending though, making him want to tell the truth about the humongous man who had thrown a machete at him less than two days ago. But that would be senseless and silly, just like talking to himself. She would merely continue with her little tirade about some poor kid who came back from the dead as a grown man and kills people. The last thing Laurent wanted to do was feed her legends.

"Have you seen anyone _out of the ordinary_ over there?"

"Not unless you count finding a locket in the water as weird."

That got her going again. Her eyes widened marginally, and her arms dropped to her side once more. Laurent was beginning to focus on the muffled movements of the people behind him as she spoke, "You found Jason's locket, the one from his mother? That's great! Now you can get him to leave the lake, and you'll be safe."

"Okay, so let me get this straight. I just found an old necklace that may or may not belong to a dead boy, and I'm expected to give it to the crazy man that seems to be stalking me around my own house. That sounds absolutely enchanting, I must say."

The knowing stare she gave him was annoying. "So you have seen someone. A man around your house, wandering around the lakeside area. Does he have a machete?"

It was time to cut the bullshit, and Laurent's voice was monotone, "Had."

She giggled, suddenly looking extremely excited. Laurent half expected her to clap her hands and jump around, "You took his weapon! Now you just have to figure out how to get him to leave. Or even kill him!"

The very idea of killing the man was appalling. If he was as dangerous as this woman was saying, then he would have killed Laurent when he was retrieving his keys. Or he would have killed him in his sleep the night before. Or something to that effect; either way, he wouldn't be at the pizza parlor. Hell, he could have killed him at any point after he had driven up and talked to the old man!

Laurent coughed lightly and opted for the best thought he had. "Maybe we should just pretend this whole conversation is long over and you just give me my change, sweetie. I've got to go be with my little boy before he gets worried that I forgot about him."

A glare was the only obvious response he received before five assorted coins were forced into his uplifted hand with more pressure than necessary. Laurent smiled and winked at her, but she didn't smile back at him like the flirty little lady she had been minutes before. Her gaze was steely and cold. The young father felt awkward for only a moment before turning on his heels gracefully and walking to his son.

Little Miss Kill-That-Man was put out of his mind as soon as Kiran smiled. There was a handful of half crumpled napkins scattered over the tabletop, and the little boy pointed at them with his Transformer still in his fist, "I got the napkins like you asked, Daddy."

"I can see that; you did a really good job, buddy."

That single sentence made Kiran beam at him. And Laurent beamed right back, adamant that his son's happiness alone could chase the shadows of fear and worry from his mind. When the pizza finally came to their table, and they were eating in a sort of silence—the father learned that there was no such thing as absolute silence when small children ate messy food—Laurent hated that the thoughts would not leave. Granted, they weren't anywhere near the woman's thoughts on this Jason, but… they still worried him.

"Daddy, I'm ready to go now."

Without saying a word, Laurent left the little pizza place hand in hand with his son. A glare pinned itself to the back of his skull, and he knew that the young woman was angry at his blatant disregard for her advice and for the safety of his own son. Jumping into the car quickly, Laurent even managed to catch a glimpse of the angered cashier staring at him. A cocky wink in return, and he sped out of the little parking lot with its faded lines cracked asphalt. There was no telling if he would ever go back there, now.

They stopped off at a little grocery store, and Laurent picked up a few much-needed items. A flashlight, ice for the ice-chest, assorted toiletries, soaps, and other little things he should have thought to bring when moving to a new place. He was just thankful he didn't have Ginger (or any other woman for that matter) living with him. It was just awful how often they felt the need to go shopping for food or other items, and this little town seemed barely sufficient for someone who hates shopping for even food.

Just that once, Laurent thanked God for letting him love cock.

At about 2:15, they were back home and parked. Kiran leapt from the vehicle, spouting cute nonsense about a Decepticon attack in his race back to the cabin with Prowl. His father watched for a matter of moments before climbing out of the old Camaro and closed both the driver and passenger doors. He popped the trunk and retrieved the groceries slowly, almost wishing that he was being watched by the Big Bad Jason Voorhees again. Would make for good gossip later, too, once he wasn't killed by the supposed maniac.

With a sigh, he walked slowly in the direction of his house.

**:D:D:D:D:D:D**

Jason stared wide-eyed at the little boy. The face that reminded him of his own childhood days of staring at windows and wondering why people were afraid of him was watching him with curiosity. He didn't run. He didn't scream. The sight of an unusually large man with a photograph held gently in one large hand, standing in the open doorway to his house… that didn't even phase the little guy. He just stood there and stared at him with big hazel eyes.

For once, the killer wished he had the ability to talk again.

A tentative step forward from the shocked man, and the little boy sprang into action. He walked forward quickly, seemingly also undisturbed by Jason's unique dead-animal aroma and took the large man's hand in his own. All the while, he chattered softly to his new 'friend' about Transformers and pizza… as he walked him in the direction of the parked car. Jason stopped, almost causing Kiran to lose his balance.

"You don't want to meet my Daddy?"

Again, Jason wished he could talk. Even if it was only to tell the child to let go of his hand. He feared he might hurt the little guy if he was to rip away from him. To respond, Jason merely shook his head in mild fear (no, not fear… it was _unrest_) and agitation.

"But you'll like him! I think Daddy likes you… he kept looking back at the trees after he took his keys back. And he never looks at people a lot without liking them," Kiran smiled, revealing more about his father than Laurent (or Jason for that matter) wished the killer to know. But the very idea of being liked by anyone other than his mother caused the undead man to pause, his stomach swirling pleasantly along with his head.

Jason made a motion with the hand still holding the photograph; a motion for the little boy to continue what he was saying, maybe even explain himself. And that was when Kiran saw what was in his hand. He reached up gently and pried the picture away, staring happily at it before putting it back between the same, rotting fingers.

"That's the picture of my Mommy and Daddy together. Before I was born, I think. They were married, then, and Daddy says I was in Mommy's tummy… and that was before Daddy told Mommy that he… he…" the little boy looked lost in thought for a moment, attempting to conjure up the perfect words to fit the situation. Jason cocked his head to the side, curious still. The lightbulb lit inside the boy's brain and he joyously pronounced, "He told her that he still loved her but he thought he loved men in a different way. He said something about liking a guy named Dick, too…"

The killer's mind reeled. This Laurent Spencer was… and he liked… and… the strange thing was that Jason's stomach had flipped again, this time much stronger. He wanted to rip himself away from the boy to sort out his thoughts; first, he was repulsed by the very thought, but then… his mind drifted to scenes he had watched many times between teenagers just before he gutted them. But those scenes had this little boy's father in them... and Jason himself.

Oh _God, _no. NO!

Depraved, nasty, _wrong! _Jason's mind was screaming conflicting thoughts at him. On one hand, he was his usual self, wanting to kill the man for becoming even more sinful than he had first appeared. The other hand, well, that side was screaming something a little different. Never having become a sexual creature, Jason didn't understand that side. It felt wrongly right. Uncomfortable and nice. And his worn jeans were chaffing in an area they had never been uncomfortable before.

And now the man's footsteps were to be heard. For the first time in his whole life (and reanimated afterlife), Jason thought a single, foul word.

_Fuck._

He let out a whimper that was so much unlike his old self that it frightened his overworked brain further. What was he supposed to think, supposed to do? The man was sure to be frightened of him, the killer was stuck in the clutches of a little boy he would never hurt, his pants were hurting his crotch now, and his brain was telling him to strangle the man… no, now it was licking him in numerous inappropriate areas. (Why did his pants get so much more uncomfortable when he thought so sinfully? The pain had to be punishment!)

So Jason made a second split-second decision. One that he knew he would regret later. He scooped the tiny child into his strong arms and stalked purposefully away from the sound of footfalls. There was bound to be some sort of Godly hatred on him now… he had stolen, thought sinfully, swore, and kidnapped a child all in one day. Jason shrugged away the raw fear he felt from the thought of not being allowed to protect his lake anymore and walked into the woods with Kiran. It was the only thing he could do without causing bloodshed.

And Kiran didn't seem to mind one bit. If anything, he might have looked the part of the schemer while he played idly with Prowl in Jason's gentle arms. He liked the big man and he liked his Daddy… what better parents could he have if two people he liked came together? He'd always wanted a second parent to live with Daddy and make them both happy, so why not get to know his future second parent? Making a friend and second parent in one day was quite nice, so he had objections.

Kiran only began to frown when he heard his Daddy yelling for him. But he never squirmed to get away from Jason. He knew his Daddy could find them if he wanted to.

**So Laurent likes a guy named Dick, huh? Yeah, I'm totally sure that it was a _man_ named Dick and not something else we all call that word... ;) And I'm also totally sure that his hard-on is Godly wrath of the yummiest kind, tee hee. R&R, please!**


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